On Saturday we headed down to the Pearcedale Farmer’s Market. Of course, we had just done our first big shop since our return the night before [slaps head] but hopefully this won’t happen again, because it would be great to be able to shop there once a month.

There are great fruit and vegies, good bread, excellent coffee, CAKES and there was also a demonstration with accompanying pamplets all about worm farms, no dig gardens and compost bins. Tres cool. I got through my allocated funds waaay too quickly. Small Z had a ball – and then M took her over to have a look at the skate bowl, and we have never heard her use the word “Wow!” with such depth and authenticity. She was transfixed by girls going crazy on their scooters, and a boy on one of those tiny BMX bikes.

Skate bowl stripes

We headed home and in the afternoon had visitors. The sibling of mine that is not mentioned or named on this blog came for afternoon tea. And the official secrets act (otherwise known as sisterly diplomacy) prevents me from saying more. Except that the cake we bought was awesome and was washed down with a pot or two of tea. Good.

Sunday – today. Drove fruitlessly around district looking for markety goodness, and found nothing but my fall back plan – guarranteed to make Small Z happy. We dropped into Tooradin airport. She is obsessed with planes, and so was suitably thrilled. It was like standing in a wind tunnel. Ugh. After about eight years of looking at it, we finally went into the cafe/restaurant there – and found it was their last day of operation ever. Ha! The hot chocolate was undrinkable, so I wasn’t besieged with sympathy.

We had a bit of a hell night last night, and so I napped with Small Z. M went off to the boat to do some odds and ends and when we got up, Small Z and I did our first proper bit of gardening (i.e not just pulling grass out of potplants). We used the maddock to clear some grass, found very nice soil and worms, and planted three broad bean seedlings that we got yesterday at the market. And then put in a daisy that I had in a pot for good measure.

I was very keen to show her a real worm, as I read her a book called My Cat Just Sleeps at least every other day, and there are worms in it that get carried around in the mouth of a cat – like a “Noodle-loo,” says Small Z. The worm in the book looks discomfited by this indignity, and we call him the grumpy worm. Today, in the garden, Small Z was loath to bond with the worms I kept flourishing at her…and then I realised why. Nothing to do with the book, and everything to do with the fact that since she was a tiny dot, I have tickled and poked her while cackling, “Worm attack! WORM ATTACK!” D’oh.

Small Z, three beans, and a daisy.

Small Z, discussing the philosophy of the red clothespeg approach to life. Tomorrow I plan to experiment on her further in the land of playgroup…